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Wednesday, January 10, 2018

mission stones (1990)




we let it bleed its goodblood off the stereo's
supersonico lyrics of mission st.
one furniture store named starlight
whose projections include a happening construction
of shadow on stigmata-clouds
musically inclining supermarket doors to
electronically OPEN free food onto
western slopes
strewn with white men sleeping in suitcases
blooming snot-hued holes
in minds needlessly shot
full of setup strobes restoring nation
to one of redwoods
amok with deer
our guesses at natural points of breaklessness
where we stamp wings
on the perfumes of the moon
proving this is where i end this is where USA begin
to form all the Love back
into loaves on a conveyor belt 
threading colorado skies
wisp of free wish to experience hardwood floor's
farce face to face-parking my AUTO
of innocence despite the midnight mind
fine sound echoes
shopping shuddering legislation vertebrae
as models sat still
in lifelessness becoming 21st century cannibals
banqueting on the delusion flask
beckoning eyes to drown within
as all misson st. starlight sale 
soul wastrel watered



San Francisco USA

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